No Gods, No Masters
by WarrenDSherman
Summary: Being a hero was just an exercise in frustration on the best of days. When he found himself in a large town that seemed to be something out of the medieval period he thought that it looked normal enough...till he saw cat eared girls, boar eared men, dwarves, elves and what looked like hobbits walk past. It was then, Archer decided, that he needed some answers.
1. A Strange Summoning

**Disclaimer : I do not own Danmachi or anything by Type Moon. They belong to their respective creators who are awesome people. I am just an Oliver Twist, looking in through the glass windows, hoping for more soup. Mmmm, soup.**

* * *

 **~oO No Gods, No Masters Oo~**

* * *

 **Adventurer's Guild, Orario**

Sometimes, it didn't pay to be a hero, Archer thought.

Before him, the elfin beauty, one whose ears reminded him uncomfortably of Medea's, glared with all the mighty frown of an unhappy kitten. Or perhaps a hungry puppy.

Either way, it was ferociously cute.

"So, Mr Shirou, was it?" She began to speak.

"Emiya" Archer corrected absently, "being called Mr Shirou makes me sound stupid. "

"Right, right" she agreed cheerfully. Archer relaxed for a moment, before remembering how Rin's agreements were cheerful too..followed by bouts of prolonged and excruciating passive-aggressiveness. "Anyway, Mr Shirou, I have only one thing to ask of you."

Sighing, Archer mentally prepared himself for the inevitable explosion. He was long used to small, petite girls yelling at the top of their considerable lung capacity at him.

He was not going to be disappointed.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

As the guild advisor, Eina, continued to berate our hapless hero, he couldn't help but reflect on the circumstances that had led him to this point.

* * *

 **Throne of Heroes, Unknown Location, Unknown Time**

The day had begun normally enough. Or what passes for a day, or normal, in the Throne of Heroes. The repository of the souls of heroes and legends who have left their mark on humanity. Many equated it to the Elysian Fields or the Valhalla...but in reality, the afterlife of heroes was a dull affair.

Time and time again, a copy of that stored soul would be summoned, either for the purpose of a holy grail war, or for the defense of humanity or sometimes by an ambitious mage overreaching himself. Once their task was complete, these copies were erased, for lack of a better word, and the vague memories of the events were sent back to the original in the throne of heroes.

These memories were rarely more than a sense of vague impressions on the subconscious, and as such, had no lasting effect on the soul.

Which was why, Counter Guardian EMIYA was surprised when he felt the inevitable and irresistible pull of a summon on his soul. His whole soul, and not just a copy...which made the experience all the more terrifying.

His very nature was defiance. Naturally, he resisted, but the pull of the summon was stronger still.

After several long moments of painful struggle against this unknown force, he gave way for a split second...which was his mistake.

His world had erupted in flashes of all hues of the rainbow, fantastical shades not occurring in nature, and he had felt himself be dragged along breakneck into the beyond.

Archer didn't even have time to lament his misfortune when the speeding colors gave way to solid ground and he grunted as he hurtled into the awaiting embrace of the earth.

Or as anyone else would say, he fell on his ass.

Yes, being a hero was just an exercise in frustration on the best of days.

He found himself in a large town that seemed to be something out of the medieval period. Archer thought with a pang that it resembled the ancient villages and towns that Saber had ruled over as king and wondered if he had found himself in her time.

A notion that was quickly disabused when he saw a cat-eared girl walk by, complete with a swishing tail. Perhaps his eyes had lingered just a minute too long on the offending appendage, but that didn't really merit the glare and the hiss that had been directed his way, did it?

After the initial surprise, he had seen more of such strangeness the more he had seen and looked around. Dwarfs, Elfs, even creatures that distinctly looked like Hobbits or Halflings, Cat Girls, Half Cats, Half Elves, Half-Halflings?

It was a veritable menagerie.

It was when he saw a gigantic man with boar's ears walk past, that he decided that he really needed some answers.

* * *

 **~oO No Gods, No Masters Oo~**

* * *

 **City of Orario**

Naturally, the first place that he thought to look, was the massive tower. In his lifetime, and in his existence as a Counter-Guardian, he had borne witness to many mighty towers, skyscrapers and monuments...yet, this edifice stood taller and higher than anything created by man. His suspicions were proven right by the little-used but very useful skill known as : keeping your ears open. Listening in on the casual conversations happening everywhere in the busy marketplace , he quickly began piecing together information.

 _'Oh, did you hear about the idiot kid who fled from the dungeon? He was soaked in monster blood through!'_ a merchant told a customer as he sold him his wares. From that, Archer could surmise that there was a Dungeon, inhabited by monsters...who clearly weren't unique or unheard of, or the people would speak of them with fear and awe.

 _'Sorry I can't stay too long!'_ one delicate looking waitress gossiped to her friend, _'Mia told me that Loki familia will be coming down to eat at the Hostess tonight, and you know how rowdy they all can get after a day in the dungeon.'_

While the name of this 'familia' was worrisome...because honestly, who names their group after a God of Mischief, Mayhem and Fire? That's just asking for trouble...they seemed to be just a group of people who hunted monsters for a living. He could sympathize with that. As a warrior who lived his life on the battlefield, he understood the joy of unwinding after a day's hard work. Food, wine and women often were the escapes of the soldiers..things that allowed them to feel normal, things that allowed them to forget the horrors of the day past.

Even so, he mentally resolved to keep a wary distance from the inauspiciously named group. They were liable to go rogue at some point, if his life had taught him anything.

He wasn't his naive past self. He wouldn't be left cursing someone's sudden and inevitable betrayal. Like the time he trusted and was betrayed by the Children of Khaos. Or the time he was let down by the Axis of Control. Or the time-...yeah, it was probably in his best interests to stay away from that group.

It was a while before he finally struck gold though.

 _'I hear Hestia finally got a poor fool to accept her blessing. Never thought that the lazy goddess would ever get a child, you know?'_ a buxom motherly looking woman remarked to a handsome blonde man who was dressed rather dandily, to put it lightly. He had a hat for crying out loud. A hat! As he passed them by, he almost recoiled. The scent that the two wore was quite overpowering. The woman smelled of freshly mowed grass and of the ground after a rain. The man on the other hand, smelled like the outside, for lack of a better word.

Archer shook his head and picked up the pace as he hurried along. Their eye catching appearance aside, the information that they revealed was far more shattering.

Gods? Adopting humans as children? Just what kind of world was this, that Gods still walked the lands? Had the age of gods never ended here?

That...that changed a lot of things. The presence of gods also meant the presence of sorceries, of ancient magics and unbridled, capricious power. While his own magecraft would be strengthened and indeed, Archer had rarely felt as strong as he did in this new world..it also meant that his inevitable foes would not be as frail as the modern mages.

It also raised the question as to exactly who had summoned him to this land, and why?

Archer just knew, in his heart of hearts, that he would not like the answer.

* * *

 **~oO No Gods, No Masters Oo~**

* * *

 **Guild Hall, Pantheon, Orario**

"Name?" the elf-eared woman asked.

"Shirou Emiya" Archer replied. While he didn't exactly hate his past self as much anymore...he still didn't like being associated with that name. On the otherhand, calling himself simply 'Archer', would just raise pointless questions. He could bear with the name, it wasn't the worst.

"Alright, Mr Emiya, my name is Eina Tulle and how can I help you today?" She asked politely.

"I was wondering what this place is, and if there was something to do?" He questioned, scratching his head. The place seemed fancy and busy, and a steady stream of people kept coming and going, so he decided to take a chance. Surely, in a medieval looking town like this, there was some menial work that could be done. It would let Archer earn a little money, keep himself busy...and if it helped someone, that was just icing on the cake.

"Ah, new to city then? Well, no problem, this is the Guild Hall. We are the ones who watch over everyone who enters the Dungeon."

"The Dungeon?"

"It is a massive labyrinth, located under that tall tower. It's full of monsters, you know, and the adventurers keep culling them to keep the numbers low."

"Alright, thank you for your help. I will be heading there next." He said with a quick bow, dipping his head in gratitude for the assistance.

"W-wha..." Eina spluttered, even as Archer about-faced and began walking out, already planning to explore this place. Monsters, regardless of the world, were dangerous to humanity and killing them was just a public service. He was a little shocked and surprised on finding such a suitable task right off the bat.

"Hey! Wait just a moment! Which God's familia do you belong to? Did you receive the blessing? Do you know how to fight?" She yells, flustered at the strange and abrupt manner that Archer had behaved.

Archer stopped in his tracks, and turned to face her, "I...don't have a good experience...in letting anyone have power over me. No gods for me, Miss. This time, no gods, no masters. I am my own man, and I am going to keep it that way."

He hadn't intended to say quite as much, but once he began to speak, he couldn't help himself.

With that, he turned and left decisively, ignoring the protesting yells of the woman behind him.

* * *

 **~oO No Gods, No Masters Oo~**

* * *

 **The Dungeon**

He had learned that they called it the Dungeon.

Fittingly named. Located under the massive tower, it was a yawning chasm that supposedly had no end. It's very entrance was a foreboding cave mouth of impenetrable blackness. He took one look at the gaping maw that was the entrance. Its darkness seemed to envelope him in an embrace that was absolute. There was nothing to be done for it.

He stepped inside.

As Archer walked in he watched his shadow dissolve into the surrounding darkness. It was dank and the first sound that greeted him was the steady drip of water and moisture from crevice. Other than that, there was an absolute stillness that seemed to echo even the sound of his breath. He could understand why the dungeon was only braved by the hardiest of thrill-seekers. It was a massive unknown...and there is no fear as potent as the fear of the unknown. No monstrous visage discovered yet has been as terrifying as the infinite potential for horror which exists before the mask is removed.

The irony that such a massive cavern existed under the equally massive high-rise tower was not lost on him.

As above, so below.

He walked further into the cave, the sound of his own echoing footsteps, his sole companion. Spires of rock hung from the ceiling and stood erect upon the floor. Faint scratching noises grew in intensity the further he walked, alerting him to the presence of cave-dwelling creatures of some variety.

The shiver that went down his spine was just because of the chilly backdraft. It couldn't be anything else.

Archer followed the unknown trail with a worried expression on his face. The blood-tracks had led him down a trail that had been created by many feet trodding this path. It was obscured by bushes and fallen rocks and sloped down into an unexpected valley.

Once more, Archer found his mind boggled by the sheer strangeness of the Dungeon's architecture. It was wrong. So very wrong.

Nonetheless, he had a purpose to fulfill, so he walked on.

After what felt like an inordinately long time of walking, the man-made path halted and yet another cave appeared. Climbing ivy wound round the entrance of the cave and concealed the jagged opening from easy sight. Inside was dim although the darkness was lifted by the two small braziers that provided a merry, crackling illumination. He had half expected some grim quote or a foreboding warning, something along the lines of ' _Ye who enter here, beware'_...or ' _Abandon Hope, all who enter here'_ or something...but no. Compared to the dank entrance, this was positively welcoming.

It hadn't been long that he had been walking in the labyrinth that he felt that prickle of warning and danger. Wary, he created his bow out of prana, noting how easy it felt in this new world, without Gaia resisting every spell. Not a moment too soon, as he spotted his foe straight away.

Three rows of teeth, each as sharp as a dagger, nose the size of a fist, dripping with gelatinous yellow streaked snot, flaking around the eyes and nose, a pair of yellow, bulbous, protruding eyes, nails like a sabre tooth tiger's, fangs glinting over rubbery pale gums, ears on stalks, stench of halitosis breath, hands the size of garbage bin lids, barely a few feet tall, small lumpy bald head with mottled greying skin, legs like the trunk of a tree, feet like sprawling roots lashing around. As the ridiculously storybook monster advances, he roars discordantly, like ancient machinery screeching to a halt. The noise set his teeth on edge, feeling like someone dragging nails on chalkboard.

Archer breathed deeply and shot a simple arrow. With a dull thunk, it buried itself deep into the monster's right eye in a spurt of aqueous humor and greasy black blood.

In an instant, the creature was dead...and soon melted away into shadows, leaving behind a dully glowing purple crystal.

Archer felt cheated. Killing monsters in this world was just so disappointing.

* * *

 **~oO No Gods, No Masters Oo~**

* * *

They say great stories happen to those who can tell them. Ais Wallenstein was an exception to that rule. For all her exceptional achievements, and they were many in number, she remained quite curt and dispassionate when talking about them. Something that happened rarely enough to begin with. On the battlefield, she was the very picture of elegance and grace, trading blows with a preternatural ease, her flashing sword culling monsters where they stood, while not a drop of their brackish blood landed on her. But outside of the killing fields, she was inexpressive, laconic and unsocial. To the outsiders, she seemed to be an existence like none other...but those who knew her realized that she was just awkward.

But no one disputed her supreme talents with a weapon in hand, and while neither boastful or modest, Ais knew that she was one of the best when it came to swordplay.

Which was why it was jarring to see this complete unknown putting that claim to the test.

Earlier in the day, after having been forced to end their dungeon expedition because of exhaustion and dangerous monsters like the Virga...Loki familia had retreated back from the 50th floor. While at the guild, waiting for their supporters to turn in the Magic Stones, they had been met with a frantic Advisor, who kept babbling about some newbie heading to the dungeon unprepared and needing a rescue.

Most adventurers were in favor of just ignoring the advisor. Newbies to the dungeon were typically cocksure young upstarts, too proud and believing themselves to be invincible just because they had a Blessing from their chosen God. They usually learnt a sharp lesson within the dungeon within the first few days. The dungeon wasn't a place to mess around in, and getting their comeuppance was good for them in the long run. It wasn't like the first few floors were very dangerous to begin with. Loss of life was unheard of, with the weak monsters and the numerous adventurers who passed through on a daily basis.

Ais too debated just letting the matter be, until she heard that the adventurer lacked a Blessing.

Which meant that he had a very real chance of dying.

So, despite Bete's vehement protests, she had agreed to helping out the Advisor, and had set out to the dungeon once more. She was tired, but it wasn't like the monsters in the first few floors would trouble her any. They would require minimal effort.

In the end, Bete had been chosen to accompany her, much to his chagrin. Everyone else had declined, citing exhaustion, disinterest, injury or some excuse or the other. Lefiya had offered to accompany her, when it was obvious that Ais was not going to change her mind...but Ais had told her no. Lefiya had expended a lot of magic and needed to rest..and if Ais was being honest, she wasn't needed. Ais alone could rampage through a good amount of floors by herself. Bete was only joining her because Lefiya insisted that someone should accompany her as back up. That girl could really be a worrywart at times.

So, the two had set out, thinking this to be a quick job. Bete was already rehearsing his scathingly condescending lines to cow the poor adventurer into submission, Ais was sure. What they hadn't expected, was a trip to the fifteenth floor.

They had spent hours, scouring the early floors for any trace of the unknown adventurer. When it was becoming increasingly obvious that he wasn't anywhere from Floor 1 to Floor 5, against her better judgement, Ais had decided to venture further down.

Bete had noticed the trail of the magic stones, which was strange in and by itself. Magic stones were essentially the standard way for adventurers and adventuring familias to earn money. Each stone could be turned in to the guild and sold for a tidy sum. Which was why Adventurers religiously collected these magic stones left behind by monsters, or hired Supporters to do it for them. To simply leave these stones behind was very unusual in and by itself.

Such a rookie mistake pointed to this being the work of their mysterious newbie...but that beggared the question : just how was a fresh-faced adventurer killing monsters in floor 5 and below?

The only way to get that answer, was to find the adventurer in question. A task that became easier once they started following the trail.

Five, Six, Ten...the trail kept leading downwards and downwards. By the time they had reached floor fourteen, Ais was getting really really worried. Common sense dictated that with each passing floor, the adventurer's chances of survival kept dropping. But defying all logic, the unknown rookie was somehow holding his own...but even a beginner's luck could run out.

Not wanting to find the curiosity dead, Ais picked up the pace. By this time, Bete and her had been in the dungeon for hours, but their patience was soon rewarded by the sounds of raging battle. Ais hurried forward, ignoring the shouts of Bete to slow down. It wasn't just altruism anymore, she was definitely curious and interested, perhaps even invested, in finding out the identity of this rookie.

Coming to a stop, she gazed disbelievingly at the sight before her.

A group of four minotaurs surrounded a single white haired man, dressed all in red. Despite the danger that he was in, the man didn't seem worried at all. He held two strange swords, one in each hand. They seemed to be quality work despite their unfamiliar design, and with a keen edge that was cutting through the monsters with mocking ease. One massive minotaur bore down upon the man, the heavy sword held aloft, slashing down towards the white-haired man's unprotected head. Almost casually, the man sidestepped from the blow and thrust his swords into the opening created as the beast over-extended. With a vicious swipe, the man wrested his blades free, even as the monster collapsed into dust.

He wasn't done however, as he twirled the black blade held in his right hand and threw it through the eye of one charging monster, ducked under the swing of another and cut out the tendons of the creature's legs with a single swipe. As the beast roared and flailed, he ran up the creature's flank and thrust the white blade into the neck, in a spray of black blood. Even as the monster collapsed, he drew out a bow from _somewhere_ and fired three arrows in rapid succession, which thudded to a stop in the minotaur's heart.

Within seconds, all the monsters were dead. The man sighed and wiped off the lingering blood from his face, spitting it out, the disgust on his face clear.

It was then that he looked up and saw them, and seemed to freeze, his eyes lingering on Ais. She wasn't unfamiliar with the adulation, but it felt wrong coming from the skilled warrior in front of her. Before she could comment on it, the moment passed and the man shook his head, before raising it once more. He met their eyes and asked-

* * *

"Well, what do you want?" he asked the two. Both of his voyeurs seemed to be capable enough. A single glance at the sword that the Saber look-alike carried told him all that he needed to know. That girl was a swordswoman, there was no doubt it. They didn't seem to be in any danger, but that didn't mean that they didn't need his help.

"We have been searching for you..." the girl said, before glancing to the side, a tiny tiny frown on her face, "...and we are the rescue?" she trails off, the questioning tone of her words reflecting the confusion that Archer felt as well.

He laughed. He didn't know this girl, didn't know where she'd come from at all. He was used to working alone and being sent out to clean up whatever messes that Humans got into. He was even used to working alongside others, rare though it might be... but even as he stood on that forsaken dungeon with his black bow in his hand, he knew that this wasn't what this was. This girl had no intention of asking for assistance or requesting a boon from him. All she had set out to do, was to rescue him.

Strange though the situation was, Archer guessed that he was okay with that.

"I thank you, but as you can see, I am not in need of a rescue." He said simply, holstering his bow. He would have dismissed it...this new world with its immense magic pervading the air allowed him to be wasteful with things like that...but to dismiss it would have been to give away his ability. So, he not only kept the bow around, but also made a show of walking over and picking up his swords as well, from where they lay.

"You asshole!" Bete growled in frustration, "We have spent the past ten hours looking for your sorry ass! Now you are coming back, even if I have to break your bones and drag you out."

"That may be so, but I did not ask you to. This is a choice you made, and you must live with it." Archer said with a faint sneer, looking down on the wolf-boy. "It's not like I do not appreciate the sentiment...I really do...but it was misplaced."

"Why you-"

"Bete, stop." Ais commanded, taking charge of the conversation, as pitiful as it was, "...and we really must insist. People are worried. If we don't come with you, more people will be sent to bring you back." She elaborates, speaking in soft, clipped tones.

"More people? That would mean more people put in danger on my account. Are they really that worried because I came here?" He asked, only to receive a firm nod.

He shook his head tiredly, "Very well then, let us be on our way." He said, striding forward purposefully, before he stopped and turned around, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Er...which way to the surface?"

* * *

The trio trudged silently on their way back to the entrance of the dungeon, spending the next few hours burrowing through yet another featureless corridor of the maze.

Back in the real world, it would stand as self-evident that a group of people saying absolutely nothing, by definition, could not be saying any less. Maybe things are different on the dungeon, or maybe Archer had just never encountered it before, but it's clear to him that there are degrees beyond silence. There was the quiet of reflection, of meditation...there was the quiet of familiarity...where a couple of people, well-used to the other's presence...could hold a conversation without saying a single world.

This however, this was a pervasive realm of deafening quiet which, following the cumulative frustration at the wild goose chase, their little group had unreservedly embraced. Constructed out of their collected exhaustion, cemented with a cruel mixture of hunger, thirst and the futility of the time wasted, it quickly became apparent that this silence was stronger than all of them. The challenge of breaking it remained unmet for the rest of the journey.

On the other hand, they made quick progress back, even with the continual monster attacks.

It's amazing how efficient a group of people can be when none of them feel like talking.

It didn't help matters any when Archer learned just which God's familia his two companions belonged to.

It had taken quite a bit of yelling on Bete's part and unamused reasoning on Ais' part before Archer stopped his tirade on his cursed luck for making contact with the very 'secretly evil familia' he had been planning to avoid. Needless to say, not even Ais was up for any conversation after that little outburst.

So, in the silence, they walked on.

After a couple of hours of walking, all of them were sapped to the bone, and more than willing to surrender to the escapism of sleep. At Archer's insistence, they make camp for the night. Bete rested against a boulder, gathering just enough energy to glare at Archer one last time. For his part, the man just rolled his eyes at the childish antagonism, and gave up his space on the relatively comfortable grass to Ais, who accepted with a grateful nod.

Normally, Ais would have been more wary of making camp in the Dungeon, or at the least, would have overseen the guard rotations...but they had been hunting for Archer for the better part of the night, and had been adventuring in high-risk floors for a week before. She was too fatigued to bother or protest anything. She simply laid her head down on the soft moss and closed her eyes.

Everyone dropped quickly enough into a quiet slumber, leaving only Archer awake with nothing but his thoughts for company.

* * *

Light, day, sun, even the moon held no sway or meaning in a place where time stood still until the exit. The dungeon, for all it's fantastical monsters and the almost game-like atmosphere among the adventurers, was mentally taxing. 'I've missed this' was the first thought through Archer's head as the sunlight streaming through the windows warmed his face. Curiosity commanded his next actions; "Just how long were we in there? It can't have been just a couple of hours, outside of the little nap you guys took" he exclaims slyly, throwing a glance sideways.

"Couple of hours? Couple of HOURS!? Can you hear this guy, Ais?" the wolfish boy growled ferally. Archer idly wondered if he was rabid. He resolved to test for that disease by a judicious use of a pail of water at the earliest.

"My senses are intact, Bete." the blonde girl answered simply, not looking riled up in the slightest, "I heard what he said."

"And you are fine with it? This dipshit ruined our celebration!" Archer perked up a little on hearing that. Sure, he hadn't set out to be an inconvenience to this annoying pup...but it was a happy coincidence. What were they celebrating though?

"It would have been grand! There would have been roasted meat, steaks, pork chops, lamb chops! drink! music! and the lovely maidens of the Hostess of Fertility! We should have been enjoying reaching the 50th Floor!" Ah, there it was.

"Instead, we were up all night, trying to track this asshole down." he snarled.

"I fail to see the problem, Bete. The food, the drink and the waitresses are not going anywhere. Unless our dear Goddess scares them away from her rowdiness. So we have the celebration tonight..what's the problem?" once again, the blonde girl proves herself to be the voice of reason.

If Archer hadn't respected her skills with her sword and the history that he saw within it already, he would have admired her for her seemingly infinite patience.

"Now you are taking his side. Bah."

As the petty argument continued, Archer tuned the two out, in favor of enjoying the outside once more. As he began heading vaguely in the direction of the marketplace, he was pulled back by a dainty yet firm hand.

"You are going that-a-way" she says, pointing towards the Guild Hall instead of the marketplace

"What? why?" He asked eruditely. He wasn't opposed to going back, but it felt like an odd demand, considering the time she had spent in getting him out in the first place.

"Not the dungeon." she frowned imperceptibly, "Into the guild hall. Your advisor waits."

Advisor? He didn't have any dungeon advis-

No.

No no no no no no.

Now he remembered the helpful woman...Eina...the woman who kept asking too many questions, and who was obviously worried about the newbie adventurers who dropped by regularly.

Newbie adventurers like him.

Crap.

That little elf woman was going to be _spitting_ mad.

* * *

 **~oO No Gods, No Masters Oo~**

* * *

 **Guild Hall, Pantheon**

And that brought Archer to now.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, after she paused to take a breath.

She pointed her finger at me. "Answer my question," she ground out.

"Uh." Archer really wasn't sure what to say. So, he settled on staring at her awkwardly, trying to answer her with the bemused expression on his face.

"No, seriously, Shirou...just what were you thinking, trying to run off into the dungeon, without a weapon, without any training, without even a blessing?" She asked with a sigh, looking genuinely worried. Archer felt a twinge of remorse for worrying her so. The tell-tale dark circles under her eyes were a testament to that.

"I...I wasn't thinking." He admitted, bowing his head in supplication, "It's true, I have no blessing from any God whatsover, but I have skills, I have training and I have weapons. I wasn't in any danger." He tried to reassure.

Eina made a show of pointedly looking him over, no weapons visible on his person, and raised a graceful, inquiring eyebrow.

Archer sighed again, something that was quickly becoming a habit. On one hand, he was loath to reveal his magecraft to an outsider, or anyone really...but unless he showed this woman something, it would make his future attempts to explore the dungeon and help people difficult. He was a reformed hero, for crying out aloud. Saving people was all he could do!

"Here, watch closely..." he muttered, holding his palm outwards, his fingers clasped around the air as if gripping an invisible sword. At the soft command of 'Trace On', a gleaming weapon materialized in his outstretched hand. A simple blade, with no legendary history behind it. Just a good solid weapon, made for a nameless knight in the 13th century, who never used the weapon in his lifetime, instead hanging it up as a decoration. Castle-forged steel, high in quality and make...but a normal weapon all the same.

But in his hands, it became something powerful. In his hands, the steel could reach the potential it had been created for.

"M-Magic? You can use magic without a blessing?" She gasped in surprise...an action that was disconcerting to Archer. How was it, that in a world as overtly magical as this was magecraft such a big deal. So, he decided to bluff.

"I always could, " he said easily, "I was born with the ability to create swords." He gave a few practice swings with the blade to demonstrate his skills, "This is why you didn't see any weapon on me...I create them on the fly."

"That's a very rare skill! I have only heard of elves being able to use magic so naturally!" She exclaimed, her hand brushing her hair off her pointed ears unconsciously, "That changes the matter a lot."

"I thought it would." Archer agreed with a nod, "I am sorry for worrying you earlier...but as you can see, I am perfectly at home in the dungeon."

She hummed in agreement, "I suppose living outside Orario leaves you more susceptible to monster attacks."

Huh. That was news to Archer, but if she was going to assume that his skills were a result of living it rough outside the city, he would gladly accept that backstory.

"Yeah, of course. So...is everything squared off now? Am I allowed to hunt in the dungeons without being hounded by evil adventuring familias?" He asked, just a little acerbic.

Eina had the grace to look sheepish. "I suppose so. While rare, adventurers not associated with a familia are not unheard of, and since you seem to be capable enough, I definitely can make an exception in your case." She replied, already pulling out the forms and papers needed to certify the same.

"Oh and the Loki familia aren't evil." She added, almost as an afterthought.

Archer resolved to his thoughts on them to himself, while keeping his eyes open. No matter what anyone said, there was no way he was trusting anyone associated with the God of Mischief.

Seriously. Why aren't more people doubting Loki and her familia more? Such is the lonely fate of all heroes...looking out for people who were too blinded to see. Or something.

"Alright, if you say so" he outwardly agreed, "Now, if there's nothing else, I'd like to take my leave. I haven't eaten in a while and I am feeling hungry."

"Not just yet, Mr Emiya" the advisor shook her head regretfully, holding up a massive sheaf of papers. "You still have to fill these forms out."

Her cheerful smile wavered on seeing his gloomy countenance and she decided to throw him a bone, "...but once you are done, I will take you out for lunch. It is the least that I can do for you."

Considering his meager (non existent) cash reserves, he bowed his head and accepted. "Thank you, now where's these forms that you need me to fill out?"

In response, she placed the sizeable stack of paper in front of him, then another stack...then yet another. At his aghast look, she replied with a simple "These forms are needed in triplicate."

Right. There were no modern xerox machines or copiers or printers in the middle ages.

...It was going to be a long morning.

* * *

 **~oO No Gods, No Masters Oo~**

* * *

 **Hostess of Fertility, Lunch hour**

"Ah, Ei-nya!" the cat-eared girl exclaimed, "come on in, come on in! And who is your friend here, nya?"

"Hello Anya, this is Shirou Emiya, and he started adventuring from today." Eina introduced formally, trying her best to curb the excitable cat-girl's...Anya's...enthusiasm.

"oooooooh," she said in delight, and Archer swore that he saw stars gleaming in her slitted eyes, "a new customer! That's great!"

Archer looked non-plussed at that. "I am just here because she-" he pointed his thumb towards Eina, "-offered to treat me for lunch. Whether I come back again, depends entirely on the quality of the food."

Anya's eyes narrowed. "Nyaaaa...is that a challenge that I hear? Are you trying to imply that our food is bad?"

"Certainly not! But I cannot judge if it is good until I taste it, no?"

"You asked for it." She said with a shrug, before calling out loud, "Miaaaaaa~ this guy here doubts your cooking!" before smirking and bounding away in an energetic fashion, leaving Eina and Archer to find their own seats by themselves.

As they settled in, pursuing the menu, Eina pouted a little and looked askance at him. "Was that really necessary? Anya can be a bit...overbearing...but she means well. You didn't have to push that further."

"Maybe, but she was getting on my nerves. Does she have to be this loud so early in the morning?" he complained.

"Mr Emiya, it's afternoon."

He tsk'd and conceded the point reluctantly, "Fine, I was rude and I will apologize. And you can call me Shirou, there is no need to stand on formality."

"Alright then! Shirou it is! Although, weren't you complaining that Mr Shirou made you sound stupid?" she questioned.

He bristled, before looking away. "It does, and I was...but it felt rude to make you call me by my family name, when you are being helpful and even treating me to lunch."

Her bright smile was indication that he had said something right. "Well well, Shirou, it seems like you can be trained after all." She said with an amused grin.

Before he could retort, he was interrupted by a sudden slam of porcelain on wood. A tall, heavy-set woman was standing next to their table, wearing a chef's apron, and evidently she was the one who had slammed the plate piled high with what looked like spaghetti and meatballs in front of him.

"Your food." She intoned, crossing her arms under her chest.

"But, I did not order this! In fact I haven't ordered y-"

"Eat" she demanded.

But of course. After his challenge to the establishment, this was to be expected. On the sly, he did a quick structural grasp on the pile of food, and noted with relief that at the very least, the cook had not spit in his food.

It was a valid fear, especially considering the incident with the moody french chef and his gourmet restaurant in downtown Shinjuku, back in his time. How was he supposed to know that the man would react so unhappily to some minor criticism? Some people just had too thin a skin for their own good.

No sooner had he taken a bite, that he found the table surrounded. Anya, the heavy-set cook, another cat-eared woman, a motherly looking waitress, and yet another elf, this time a blonde, and even the dainty waitress that he had overheard yesterday on the way to the dungeon, all of them crowded the table, as if waiting for his verdict.

"Er...mm, the food is good. The noodle is a little overcooked and the sauce lacks bite to it...but the meat is cooked perfectly. It's definitely passable." He critiques, surprised at it tasting as good as it did.

Contrary to what he was expecting, none of the women seemed happy with this verdict. Finally, after a long moment's pause, the big woman spoke up.

"Alright, you think you can do better?"

"If I have caused offense, I apolo-"

"Save it. Can you do better?" She demanded again.

"...yeah, yeah I definitely can." He spoke after a bit.

"Then prove it. You finish your food, then you come here and cook. If it's better than mine, you can eat here for free for a week."

There had to be a catch. "And what if it's not?"

"Why? Getting cold feet already?" She smirked, "If it's not as good as mine, you will be doing the dishes for a week..."

Alright, that didn't sound too bad.

"...In a maid's uniform."

And there was the catch.

* * *

"You know, I just can't take you anywhere. You keep angering all my friends" Eina complained, leaning against the countertop while Archer expertly diced his tomatoes. Already, he had kneaded the dough for the noodles, had minced the meat and mixed it with spices and cheese, and was now about to start working on the sauce. Normally, the sauce was cooked first and was left to thicken and slow-cook for hours, but since he didn't have much time, he was taking shortcuts, changing the cooking order and skipping steps that he usually wouldn't have.

"I wasn't trying to, you know?" He defended himself, "I simply said that I would come back IF the food was good, and it was...but it's not my fault if she thought her cooking was flawless."

"Nevermind that, and what about the Loki familia? You called them evil too, and made them chase you for a whole night."

Archer sighed and started to saute the tomatoes in oil, before adding in water and other spices, tasting the mixture till it was to his liking. Then, he covered the pot, and got started on breading and shaping the minced meat into balls.

"First off, I didn't make them do anything. That was you." He accused, an accusation that Eina pointedly ignored, "Second of all, again...this is Loki! Have you not heard the tales? That god is a manipulative cunning bastard!"

"Er, Shirou-"

"He is a malevolent, unpleasant, selfish creature who causes misery and torment purely for his amusement!" He continued on his tirade, while beginning to fry the meatballs.

"Shirou, let me sto-"

"He brought about Ragnarok, caused the death of his blood-brother, the death of both sons of his blood-brother, and his offspring were the ones that destroyed Asgard, and-"

"SHIROU!"

"What, Eina?"

"I think you are mistaken about more than a few things. For one, Loki is not a he. Loki is a woman..." she trailed off, rubbing her temples as if to ward off a headache.

"...and she is behind me, isn't she?" Archer finished off, stopping his cooking to look at Eina tiredly.

At her minute nod, he slumped. His life really felt like a comedy played for Alaya's benefit at times. Taking a fortifying breath, he turned to face the fuming goddess.

Loki, wasn't what he was expecting. Red haired, skimpily dressed in what looked like a track suit, and with a grumpy expression on her face. He looked her over once and tactfully didn't make any mention of her slight figure and small breasts. Never let it be said that Archer couldn't learn from his experiences with women.

It was mostly thanks to Rin that he knew not to make a comment. Her tirades whenever that topic came up, were legendary.

"So, you seem to assume an awful lot about me, eh? Been reading fairy tales, aintcha?" She spoke in a thick accent.

"Loki. Why are you here?"

"Yep, that's me. I was just here to reschedule and reserve seats for a dinner tonight." She said, "Now, my turn. Who are you now, boy? Which familia are you with, that you dare to speak to me like that?"

"Shirou, Shirou Emiya." He said, turning back to check on the merrily bubbling sauce. Taking it off the heat, he put a potful of water up on the old-style stove and added the noodles. "And I have not accepted any God as my master."

Loki seemed to perk up in interest on hearing that name, "You are the Shirou that my Ais was telling me about! You certainly caught her interest."

"Now, what's this I hear about you not having any Blessing yet? Want to join my familia?" She offered.

"Sorry but no" He said immediately, keeping a close eye on the noodles as they cooked, "I am not going to accept any Blessing whatsoever."

"Why? You have a problem with us gods or something?" She belligerently asked.

"In a word, yes" He said simply, removing the noodles from heat just slightly before they were cooked. They would finish cooking in their own heat later. In a smooth motion, he drew out seven plates and started to plate the food up.

"You gods are selfish. You are graced with immortality, with wisdom, with knowledge...and how do gods use those gifts? By feuding with each other...by luring mortals as their pawns...by finding your entertainment at our expense. Even the most benevolent of the gods have an ulterior motive whenever they choose to help humans...so pardon me if I don't trust the word of a God, let alone the God of Lies." He said bluntly, before setting down a plate of the meal in front of the goddess.

"Anyway, Anya, the rest of you scary ladies...the meal is ready." He said, taking off his apron and hurrying out the door. He wasn't running after mouthing off to a god. Nope. This was a judicious retreat. A tactical withdrawal. That was all. "I will come back tomorrow, let me know your verdict then. And Eina, thanks for the treat."

With that, he bravely ran away.

* * *

"That...was quite interesting." Loki commented, as she moodily twirled the noodles around before taking a bite. "I wonder what happened to him to make him hate all the gods so...but damn if he can't cook. Thish ish awshome" she spoke through mouthfuls of food.

"I will agree." Mia, the heavyset woman, commented, thoughtfully eating her own share, with far more dignity than Loki. Not a difficult feat, but still. "I cannot cook anything like this...there's absolutely no flaws in this dish. You will drag him here everyday, Eina, is that understood?"

"Er...what?" Eina was confused at this sudden turn around. Not a minute ago were all of them glaring at Shirou, and now they actively want his company?

Mia chuckled and set down her plate with a thump, "Do you not see it yet, Eina? That boy is something special alright. Just you wait, I know he is going to go places."

Eina was more skeptical, "Are you sure? I mean, he doesn't have a Blessing, but he has training. Granted, that's uncommon, but it's not unheard of, after all."

"Nah girlie, she's right." Loki interjected, "It takes a special kind of stupid to come up to a god and insult them in their face, while also giving them a meal that's as good as anything made by the best of the best."

"At least he had enough sense to run away while he could." she laughed, and Mia joined in too. Even Eina couldn't help but smirk at the joke on Shirou's expense.

"He did run away, didn't he?" Eina commented with a slight grin, gazing longingly at the quickly emptying plates of food. Not even the reserved Ryuu was slowing down for a moment.

"Totally." Loki smirked back.

* * *

 **A/N : So this was it! Let me know if you liked. Yes, Archer is going to be strong, but that does not mean that he is going to be curbstomping everything and everyone. And no, there is not going to be other characters or servants in this. There is not going to be a Grail War in Orario.**

 **Also, I have not forgotten about Bell and Hestia either, and they should be in the next chapter. Along with Monsterphilia, more Trace On, more Archer being awesome.**

 **Also, no ships for Archer planned right now or in the foreseeable future.**

 **Any other questions, let me know, and I will do my best to answer.**

 **Also, while you are here, go check out DragonManMax's The Empty Thrones. It's an excellent Danmachi fic. Oh, and also, Random-O-Panda's Danmachi oneshot.**

 **Next update : Wednesday, 23rd of May (a little delayed as work came up and I couldn't finish the proofreading and re-writing)**

 **Later~**

 **-WarrenDSherman**


	2. Home is where the chest is

**Disclaimer : I do not own Danmachi or anything by Type Moon. They belong to their respective creators who are awesome people. I am just an Oliver Twist, looking in through the glass windows, hoping for more soup. Mmmm, soup.**

 **Please read the A/N at the end.**

* * *

 **~oO No Gods, No Masters Oo~**

* * *

"Idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot!" Archer lamented, and rightfully so.

He had not planned to reveal so much of his past, or to speak at all...but once he started speaking, he found that he could not stop. Archer was not a man of few words by nature, but instead by design, after having learnt the lesson from the troubles that his big mouth got him into.

At least he used to be worse as a kid.

Archer took solace in that little fact.

Hindsight and recriminations aside, Archer found himself in a sticky situation. He had no money, no master, no place to stay, no guild to belong to or anything really, to his name in this new world. The only thing he wasn't worried about, was food...and that was solely because of his confidence in his cooking skills. If that woman was good for her word, Archer would have his meals taken care of for a week. Seven days should be enough to find some sort of steady work, something that he could do when he wasn't in the dungeon, hunting down monsters.

Surely in a world without machines, there must be someone looking for help with menial labor! Right?

* * *

Wrong.

Coming in at past the lunch hour, Archer was a bit too late for anyone to need his help. The people were used to waking up early and working hard, and most of the shops in the marketplace had been open since dawn. He wandered around aimlessly still. While no one might have needed his help, it was always good to familiarize himself with the local area.

Back-alleys, shortcuts, hidden paths, nooks and crannies. All useful things that one must know in a new city. For making a quick getaway, if nothing else.

For the most part, it was a run of the mill, standard metropolis. Sure, the buildings were smaller than what he was used to...and perhaps there weren't as many fast food shops or entertainments corners, but it had all the trappings that one would expect. A continuous bustle of the milling masses. Trade and commerce going on at a brisk pace. The rich possessing immense privilege and the poor barely making ends meet.

What did surprise him, was the harmony.

Humans weren't the only creatures in existence here. There were other races, like those with feline features, canine features...and even the stereotypical races like Elves and Hobbits. Yet, despite all those differences, the people were co-existing in relative peace.

For a Guardian of the Counter Force like him, this was positively a miracle. All too often, he would be sent out to clean up after the consequences of petty things that humans divided themselves with. Race, Color of Skin, even Gender...all these issues had caused catastrophes. So to see humans not just co-existing with each other, but also with entirely different races...that warmed his heart.

But that did beg the question, a question that he knew he would **need** to find answers for, and soon.

In such a peaceful world, without an Grail War going on...why was he summoned?

* * *

 **~~oOOo~~**

Once upon a time, long ago, Nuada had been King of the Tuatha Dé Danann, back when they were still more heroes than legends and myths. He had been a good king, a benevolent king to his people, but eventually he too had come into conflict. Their rivals had been the Firbolgs, and the fight for dominance had been bitter indeed.

In the battle of Mag Tuired, Nuada had lost his arm against the champion of the Firbolgs.

A King who is not whole, is no King...Nuada's people had believed, and after losing his arm, he had lost his Kingship as well, and had been cast aside to roam as a wanderer.

Unfortunately, his replacement, King Bres, was a tyrant. In the next seven years that followed, the Tuatha Dé Danann suffered from injustice and indignities that were inflicted upon them by their King. So, they called out once more to Nuada, who chose to aid his people...those same people who had cast him aside and caused him so much hardship.

With help of the physician : Dian Cecht, Nuada had had a new arm made of silver crafted, making him whole once more.

That day onwards, he was known as Nuada Airgetlam. Nuada of the Silver Hand.

He was the man that Miach had looked up to, when he had been little more than a child, learning the secrets of healing at his father's knee. So, when the time came to aid Nuada, Miach had unhesitatingly cast a magic that grew flesh on his Silver Arm. It was unprecedented and a breakthrough in healing magic. Yet, instead of being pleased, Dian Cecht had flown into a jealous, manic rage...and in that same madness, had killed Miach. His own son.

A long time had passed since those events, and once they had ascended to godhood, Miach had been resurrected, and had held no grudge against his father. Well, not too much anyway, and if Miach entertained fantasies of ravens of The Morrígan pecking out his father's eyes, that was no one's business but his own. Despite the bad blood, they were coldly polite to each other when they were in heaven, and now, the descent to the lower world had led to an interesting development. Something that hadn't happened in millenia. They had become business rivals.

These new and unusual experiences were probably why gods descended into the lower world in the first place.

Many a time had he contemplated exacting his vengeance after the latest bout of frustration, but that was short-lived. Living for revenge was simply not in his nature. He was a healer. He understood very well that while blades and bows might be the agents of physical pain, it was the darkness in men's hearts that was true cause behind suffering.

For years, that detente had continued, till the matter of yet another Silver Hand came up. It seemed that Destiny wasn't done playing with Miach just yet.

His familia had been small, but modestly prosperous, and they had wanted for nothing. Till the day that Miach learnt that one of his children, Naaza Erisuis, had been grievously wounded in the dungeon.

He remembered being numb, he remembered being shocked. He remembered feeling the urge to rush to the dungeon, regardless of the consequences, before reason had set in.

Sometimes, Miach really hated his sense of reason.

Still, Naaza's injuries were grievous and extensive, and despite the best efforts that he had extended, he was not able to save her right arm. It had to be amputated. If the accident that she had faced was bad, the mental damage it had inflicted on her psyche was worse. From a cheerful, excitable Chienthrope, Naaza had become cynical, depressed and withdrawn almost overnight.

She was now afraid. Afraid of dungeons, afraid of monsters, afraid of her own shadow. And resentful of those stronger than her who had not come to her aid in time.

Her lost arm, a constant reminder of loss.

Once more, he saw the darkness gather within her heart, as it had in his Idol, his Hero of old.

It was perhaps in his memory that Miach had made his choice.

Swallowing his pride, he had bowed to his father and begged him, pleaded with him to craft a new arm for his child.

After hours of watching his hated son struggle, Dian Cecht had relented and agreed to heed to his request. At a huge cost, of course.

It had bankrupted Miach's familia, and one by one, all his children had left. But Naaza now smiled, and for Miach, that was enough.

It was for that very reason that he always tried to help those in need. He understood very well the power that a kind gesture possessed...and though his godly power was suppressed, this was one strength that could never be taken away from him. Just a few days ago, he had found himself drawn to a small white haired boy, the sole familia member of Hestia, a goddess in unfortunate conditions, much like himself. He couldn't do much, but he could make the boy's day brighter. The look on his face when gifted with small gifts of healing potions, or a little snack (a fresh fruit, of course. Far healthier than some greasy, oily concoction)...it made Miach smile.

He supposed that he had gotten into the habit of taking little lost strays under his care.

So when he saw that young man wandering around aimlessly, he couldn't help but speak up.

* * *

 **~~oOOo~~**

The smell was the first thing that Archer noticed. No, it wasn't a stink, on the contrary the smell was fairly floral, like a hundred different herbs and spices stacked in a single room. He turned his nose to follow the scent and was met with the sight of a slender young man waving him over, smiling.

As a general rule, Archer was wary of people who smiled. They were either naive idiots, or they were secretly psychopaths, but he wasn't exactly flush full of options.

And besides, what did he have to lose?

"Hello there, young man" the slender youth in the long robes hollered. Where did that kid get off on calling him 'young man' anyway? "I have a job for you if you want it."

Archer was immediately suspicious.

"How do you know that I am looking for something to do?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

The man laughed pleasantly, "It's the middle of the afternoon, my friend. If you had work to do, you would be doing it, instead of wandering around."

Ouch. Well, he wasn't wrong.

"Yes, well...you are wandering around too." Archer said.

The man smiled in amusement and held up the wrapped packages that he was carrying. "My assistant is watching the shop while I did the grocery shopping. I could do with a bit of help though, unless of course you are busy. In which case, I apologize."

Ah, what the hell. In the end, the idea of helping someone was too strong to resist.

"No, it's fine, I can help. What do you want me to do?"

"As you can see, my hands are full and I still have things to do. I would appreciate if you could lend me a hand with this."

After a long moment, Archer reached forward and grabbed a couple of bags off the man, sealing their compact.

The man, for his part, seemed genuinely relieved. "That's so much better now, thank you!" he said emphatically, "I'm afraid I didn't get your name. I am Miach, and you are?"

Still smarting from the 'Mr Shirou-Mr Emiya' debacle from earlier, Archer decided to play it straight this time. "Just call me Emiya. I'm new to Orario, so I will be in your care while you continue your shopping."

Miach chuckled and shook his head, "Do not fear. I just have to buy some fruits and vegetables. The only task after that would be crafting some medicines for an order, but that shouldn't require your assistance."

"Medicines? Are you a doct-Healer?" Archer asked. Doctors were a profession that he could truly respect. While there were bad eggs a-plenty in their ranks too, a large majority were simply good people trying to heal the world, one festering sore at a time.

As someone who too judiciously removed festering sores from society, Archer could empathize. He was often envious of the difference they could make without causing further harm in the world around them. To him, the Healing arts and doctors represented another facet of his ideal of 'saving everyone'. In the kaleidoscope of broken reflections, Archer often wished that the face that stared back at him from the mirror was that of a doctor, and not a murderer. But things were as they would, and while they plied their trade, and he plied his. Steel was his body, and fire his blood.

"Yes, I am." Miach answered with a gentle smile, "Right down the street is my shop, the Blue Pharmacy. Do visit us there sometime." He elaborates, gesturing towards the long street lined with stalls and shops.

"I will." Archer promised. After all, making a promise cost nothing and reassured whoever you were making a promise to.

"Excellent!" the man exclaimed, already striding purposefully ahead, heading to the nearest fruit-seller. As he made his purchases, their polite exchange continued. "Are you an adventurer as well?"

"Yes, just registered with Eina and everything."

"That's nice." He said absent-mindedly, following it up with a logical question, "Which familia do you belong to?" Archer stiffened, unsure of what to say. For a moment, he debated taking the aid of a falsehood and leading the man astray...till he realized that his profile was open for public viewing...and either Eina or Loki or someone else would leak his status to the general populace. And the only thing worse than getting caught red-handed in truth...was getting caught red-handed in a lie.

"I am not affiliated with any _god_ , " he said with a little heat that surprised even him, "I trust in the strength of my arms and my skills than on the blessing of a flighty being who looks upon my existence solely for the amusement it provides him."

"Ah." Miach says eloquently, "I can understand the disdain, though I don't share in it myself. That said, I can speak from personal experience that some are indeed as you describe. Selfish, Vainglorious, Covetous. Definitely not pleasant to be around."

"I do hope you will not tar us all with the same feather though. That would be most unfortunate."

"Of course not, I only jud-"

Wait a minute.

It took Archer a second to work out what Miach had revealed, but he got there, eventually. He was a warrior, not a thinker. Wordplay and speaking in flowery words that were meant to entangle had been Rin's domain usually, than his.

"You...You are a God as well?"

"Yes, I just said that, didn't I?" Miach replies, just as serene, holding up a ripe peach for inspection. The corner of his lips turned down as he shook his head and replaced it back on the pile, "Too ripe." he said in lieu of an explanation to the uncaring vendor, who simply waved him on.

"You don't simply just say that you are a God!" Archer protested, "There should be something accompanying this, no? Some fanfare, some crackling thunder, a cavalcade of cherubs in diapers singing psalms! Something! "

"Really?" Miach comments dubiously. "Something to keep in mind for later, I suppose. It all sounds something my father would enjoy. Certainly not my thing."

"And really? Cherubs in Diapers? Do you think that the only thing that Gods desire above all are young childre-" he stopped talking as he looked askance at Archer's growing grin. "Oh, how droll. That's certainly a jibe that I have _never_ heard." He says dryly, a wry smile dawning on his serene face, giving him a sharp, intelligent air.

"A God who can take a joke? Color me surprised." Archer muttered, before clearing his throat pointedly, "Before anything else, I must ask, do you have any plans or designs to make me join your familia, or send me on endless quests that are hazardous to my general well-being, or make me perform some impossible labor to entrap me?"

"...What?" Miach asked, non-plussed, "my friend, you have some very strange misconceptions about Gods, I must say. Perhaps you need more help than I had previously thought."

* * *

Miach had been right. Archer had been resorting to what he knew of gods and powerful beings back from his own world. Not for the first time, he had been forced to accept that this was not his world. This was something else, something new. That sunny afternoon, spent in leisurely shopping for fruits, vegetables and herbs of all varieties, Archer finally began to develop a clearer picture of the new circumstances that he found himself in.

That didn't stop him from letting his displeasure known though.

"You know something Miach, you are far more insidious than you let on." Archer commented, speaking out from behind the veritable pile of paper bags.

"Oh? Whatever gave you that idea?" The Irish God commented with a small laugh, looking all too pleased with himself.

"You tricked a poor lost lamb and made him into your personal mule!" Archer snarked, shifting the heavy bags from one hand to another, tucking them in more comfortably.

In response, Miach merely shook his head, leading them _finally_ into his erstwhile home, the Blue Pharmacy. It was a cheerful little place, with a brightly painted sign, and the pleasant floral smell of the numerous herbs felt very inviting to the senses. It was so patently like his new godly friend, that Archer couldn't help but grin, his irritation draining away.

"Come, my friend, and be welcome at my humble abode." Miach said, as he opened the wooden door, which was accompanied by the tinkling of little bells.

With a grateful sigh, Archer dropped the bags of groceries and supplies on the countertop, considering his task well and truly done. Taking advantage of the little respite, he took a look around.

Stocked from wall to wall were innumerable flasks and goblets and vials, each filled with a liquid of some description. Some were brightly coloured in the shades of garnet, emerald and turquoise, gleaming in the light of the sun. Still others were indistinguishable from water at first glance, but were oddly viscous and gelatinous when observed more closely. A wooden display case sat in front of an ancient looking Tradesman's Till, where an open accounts book lay, likely to tally the daily sales.

All in all, it seemed like a medieval apothecary...something that matched the time period that this new world was presumably in.

"Lord Miach, is that you?" a feminine voice said from within the depths of the pharmacy, "I was expecting you far earlier. What took you so long?"

"Ah, Naaza, yes it's me. I have brought a guest along as well!" The medicine god cheerfully hollers back, already busying himself in emptying the bags and sorting their contents out.

"I hope for your sake that he is sick, or has some broken bones, my Lord. I know you like that Bell kid, but we cannot afford more freeloaders on our expenses!" the unknown woman lamented.

Miach laughed, looking oddly nervous, much to Archer's glee. Truth be told, he was just happy that it wasn't him getting bossed around this time. After all, Schadenfreude was a guilty pleasure that Archer rarely had the opportunity to enjoy.

Miach was going to be on his own. Archer considered that as sufficient payback.

"That was not an answer, Lord Mi-" the woman's voice drew nearer before stopping on taking sight of Archer. For his part, Archer couldn't help but stare. A pair of entrancing purple eyes were widened in surprise, meeting his own. Long brown hair fell in waves, framing a pretty face.

And a pair of floppy dog ears.

And a tail.

"This one's new." the odd dog-woman commented, "He does look as scruffy as Bell...same hair color too. Are you his older brother or something, come to take the kid back?"

"No no, this is the guest I was speaking of!" Miach interjected before a little comedy of errors would occur. If he had learnt something about Archer after spending the afternoon in his company, it was that the young man was very very irritable, and had a sharp tongue to match.

"Naaza, this is Shirou Emiya, alias, Archer." He introduced swiftly, "and Archer, this is my Childe, Naaza Erisuis. The only member of my Familia."

While Miach remained as light of heart as he was while introducing, Archer noticed Naaza's ears droop a little, her eyes dimming.

There was a story there, Archer knew, but it was not his place to ask.

"Er...Nice to meet you." He replied politely, "Please, I am not here to impose on your hospitality. I am new to the city, and Miach here took it upon himself to help me familiarize myself."

At this explanation, Naaza shook her head in exasperation at her Lord finding yet another stray to dote over. She had tried so many times to make him more worldly, more aware of the duplicity and greed of people...especially those with power. But to no avail. He was simply content in helping wherever he could. He really did have a saving-people thing.

A good amount of guilt colored those thoughts too, as Naaza's warm hand touched her cold silver prosthetic reflexively. If Miach hadn't been the way he was, she would have been relegated to a life of an infirm, useless and a drain on resources. But he had stood up for her. He had saved her. Even though it had cost him his entire familia to do so.

That guilt was the reason she never pushed overmuch whenever he found the latest charity-case to help.

Shaking these thoughts off her conscience, Naaza turned to Miach, "Speaking of Bell, Lady Hestia had been to visit. She required a vial of Medium Grade Healing Potion. It seems that young Bell bit off more than he could chew. She didn't have any money to pay with, as usual." She finished a little sourly.

Miach kept his serene expression as he asked, "How long ago was this? Was it urgent?"

"I don't think so. She was... _bouncing_...all over the place, in a manner most unbefitting a Goddess. She seemed pleased at Bell's progress than worried about his injuries." Naaza shrugged, "I've already made the potion. It's there under the counter."

She coughed slightly and looked away from Miach's scrutiny as he smiled knowingly at her, "I was simply being prudent! I know you would have given away a potion anyway!"

"Thank you Naaza. You are an immense help."

Throughout this little conversation, Archer did his best to not butt in with his opinions...if for the sole reason that he didn't know who this Bell person was, nor how the Goddess Hestia was in person. The scant myths that he remembered of her told the tale of a virgin goddess, demure and caring and modest. One who devoted herself to maintaining the peace and tranquility of the hearth and home. A massive undertaking, considering the often violent and hotheaded pantheon of the Greeks.

Even outside of that, Family was a touchy subject for Archer. For obvious reasons.

All in all, it just made him rather leery of Hestia, as well as a certain curiosity to meet the Goddess.

His reverie was interrupted when Naaza stomped off, her socks-clad feet thumping with a muted sound on the wooden floorboards. Archer found his gaze drawn to the fluffy tail that was swishing agitatedly. He hurriedly disabused himself from further study. As interesting as the presence of tails on human bodies was, it wouldn't do to stare at the admittedly svelte figure of his new acquaintance's childe.

Besides, that unknown cat-girl's hiss and her murderous glare was still fresh in his mind. He wasn't going to make the same mistake again. Why repeat mistakes when there are a dozen new ones to make?

* * *

After saying their goodbyes, and assuring Naaza that Archer was not going to be yet another constant drain on the Pharmacy's finances, the two headed towards an old abandoned church that Bell and Hestia called their home.

On his part, Archer wondered why he was accompanying Miach still, but he figured that he was the best source of information about this world yet. Eina was bossy and mostly concerned with keeping adventurers alive than about educating them. Less said about Loki the better. The girls of that little pub seemed nice, but he wasn't sure if he should push his luck there, so soon after challenging the owner.

No, Miach was his best bet for gaining a greater understanding of this new world. He was admittedly curious to better understand the pleasant God, an oxymoron if Archer had ever heard one.

Before that though, one burning question still rankled. To that end, Archer began to speak.

"So," Archer said, "Naaza seems nice…." as his voice trailed off, unsure of the best way to phrase his question.

Understanding his plight, Miach simply rolled his eyes and answered, "Just stop. I know you are wondering what her species is, correct?" At Archer's disgruntled nod, he continued, "She's a Chienthrope. A sub-species of other such humans with canine features."

"A Chienthrope, huh." Archer said, experimentally speaking the word aloud, "Is there a reason for such...diversity...in humanoids? I swear I saw a big guy with boar ears earlier too."

Miach mused thoughtfully before he answered. "I am not sure. For me, this is the way it has always been. Was this not the way where you are from? You must have been from a very insulated village then."

"Yeah, yeah…" Archer swiftly lied, glad of the opportunity to further build his fake backstory "I hate to admit it, but my home was rather xenophobic towards non-humans."

Miach looked up sharply at that, "They aren't non-humans. They are just as human as you or I. Just because they have different features, does not mean that they aren't people." He rebuked.

Archer held his hands up in a conciliatory manner,"I am not saying that they aren't. I am just telling you what my village was like."

The medicine god nodded at that. After all, Archer had been curious and not censorious. He couldn't help the attitude of the village he grew up in. "I understand. Sorry if that was a little abrupt. This is something that I have been increasingly worried about. Especially in the outer cities and villages, there's a disturbing amount of dislike and disdain towards those who are different. Here, in Orario, it's not prevalent or even noticeable...but if you know where to look, it's there." He lamented.

"That's the very nature of being sentient," Archer philosophically mused, "you fear the unknown, the different, the strange. Speaking of strange though, do you not think that you smile too much?" Archer said bluntly.

"Being sentient is to fear the unknown? Yes, I can see why you might think that. Still, thinking that a smile is strange? You really need to lighten up more, Archer."

"I do smile, thank you very much." the man in question groused, unsmiling, "but there's a difference between an occasional smile and grinning constantly like a loon."

Miach chuckled ruefully at that.

"I suppose you are correct. My good for nothing Father didn't do much by way of parenting, but something that he said stuck with me. He said, son, a real man smiles in the face of trouble. Gathers strength from weakness and grows brave by self-reflection. I used to think he was full of shit, pardon my language."

"Then, one day, I saw my childhood hero, the man that I looked up to, be permanently disfigured and deposed from his throne. I cried and I was just one of many. But that man did not. He _smiled_. He accepted the misfortune that had come his way, and weathered it with a smile. The next time I saw that man again, he had regained his throne, his power and led my people to a great victory against the tyrants that had oppressed us."

"That was when I understood that bad times are inevitable. But it is our choice how we brave them. You can do so by grimacing, crying and cursing your luck, making the ordeal even more odious with all the negativity...or you can smile, and greet adversity like an old friend."

"This is why I smile." Miach concluded, "because the alternative is to cry."

* * *

 **~~oOOo~~**

If you asked Archer if he had any preconceptions about how the Goddess of Hearth and Family would be like, he would have thought that she would have been motherly. A kind, soft-spoken woman with a gently worn face and a welcoming demeanour.

The tiny girl with the oversized chest and a loud, shrill voice wasn't what he was expecting.

As she fretted around a bemused looking kid, Archer nudged Miach surreptitiously. "Are you sure she's a goddess? Like, absolutely sure?"

"I heard that!" The miniature, immature goddess yelled, a pout already firmly in place as she shot the two older men a look.

"Lady Hestia, please, I'm sure he didn't mea-URK!" the young kid, presumably 'Bell', tried to calm the goddess down, only to have the vial of the healing medicine be emptied down his gorge by a rampaging...well, there was no better way to put this. A loli. A big-breasted rampaging loli.

Just thinking those words together in his head made Archer want to kill something...or himself.

"My apologies." Archer said smoothly, "When I heard about the Goddess of Family, I expected someone more responsible, or mature...or with a larger familia. You can understand my skepticism, no?" He said bitingly, each word a sharp sting to Hestia's heart.

"Heyyyyy!" the goddess whined, looking on the verge of tears, "That's so mean! It's not my fault that no one wants to give the new Goddess a try. They all want to go with Gods of War, or Gods of Wealth or even Gods of Alcohol. Family is not as valued in the Lower World as I had expected."

"There there, Lady Hestia, I joined your familia didn't I? Once I have made a name for myself, others too will see just how good a goddess you are!" the young kid encouraged, patting the goddess on the back, before turning to look at Archer. "I know that you are surprised, but trust me. Lady Hestia is the kindest goddess you will ever meet. I couldn't have asked for a better goddess to lead me." he said earnestly.

The loli goddess' eyes shone with warm gratitude towards Bell before she turned to look at Archer once more. "See! My Bell loves me so much! How about it? Do you want to join my familia too?"

"No." Archer flatly refused, much to Hestia's chagrin.

"Ugh! You are so rude! You would fit in right well with that Loki No-Boobs!" She groused, crossing her arms under her breasts. Archer gallantly did not comment on the fact that this gesture only served to hide her arms away under the prodigious mass of her flesh.

He did however catch the name bundled within the offensive language.

"Loki? As in Loki of the Loki Familia? Yay tall, red hair, flat chest?"

"Yes, that's the one! I thought 'Loki No Boobs' was descriptive enough! Have you met her?" She exclaimed.

"Just making sure. To answer your question, yeah I did meet Loki a few hours ago, at the Tavern. She offered me to join her familia as well."

"Aaand?" Hestia asked in a sing-song, leaning forward in great interest.

"And I turned her down as well. I am not looking to join any God's familia."

Hestia pouted once more at that. An expression most unbefitting any self-respecting adult over the age of ten, let alone a goddess. Within moments, that lackadaisical expression sharpened as she leaned in slyly.

"Fine! I'll let you go on one condition : You will tell me how that annoying plank Loki reacted when you told her no."

Sensing Archer's fraying temper, Miach jumped to rescue the unfortunate young man from his predicament, and Bell showed remarkable perspicacity by taking the cue and engaging the flighty Goddess in a discussion of his dungeon sojourns.

* * *

Their rough first introductions aside, Archer quickly fell into pattern with his new acquaintances. For all his idealism and optimism, Miach was someone who had seen and felt the darkness that often lay under the bright gleam of happiness. Unlike his past self, Miach wasn't deluded by his naivety. Archer supposed that he could respect that.

Bell was another surprise. The kid was almost painfully self-aware, and had the patience of a saint. There was some sort of irrepressible cheer and good-humor to him that tempered the steel in him. He wasn't as hardened or battered as Archer was, but the kid's determination was something that impressed Archer, despite himself.

It was obvious that Bell was swiftly reaching a plateau in his growth, but he manfully kept soldiering on. For a moment, Archer was tempted to step in. To offer guidance or mentorship to help the kid grow beyond his limits...but thankfully, good sense prevailed. If he had simply stepped in without being asked, Bell would resent him with time. A reason to grow, a reason to fight is something that everyone should discover for themselves, Archer had learnt with bitter experience with Kiritsugu.

The unfortunate ideals that he had inherited from Kiritsugu were the catalysts that had led him to a cursed existence as a pawn of the world. Humanity's clean-up crew. He no longer resented his father or those ideals, but he could not, in good conscience, think of those tainted dreams fondly either.

No. Bell would have to find his own way through this. If he asked for help, Archer would give it, but nothing until then.

Besides, filling the empty void that was the small goddess' stomach was a full time chore. If that didn't motivate the kid into testing his limits, nothing would.

Speaking of the Goddess in question, Archer's thoughts on her were a little more vacillating. On one hand, she was herself. Loud, annoying, airheaded, flighty, disproportionate, unaware of the concept of societal norms or of the fact that small ribbons are no substitute for bras!

But in spite of all of her flaws, there was a undoubtable goodness associated with her. The purity of heart, and the personality she had drew people to her, like moths to a flame. Even as he watched her dote upon her youngest, and only Familia member, he noticed the little gestures. The fuss she made over his scrapes, bruises, and surprises… The encouragement she gave him, both subtly and overtly. Archer could see the family foundations that were being laid, and constantly reinforced… He could see why Hestia, of all people, was the Goddess of Family and Harmony.

They were all good people, their quirks and flaws notwithstanding, and Archer found himself getting comfortable and letting his guard down around them. It was perhaps this reason that had led to his predicament.

Seated around a rickety table, the four were enjoying bowls of hot stew, a very welcome and filling food in the cold of the evening, courtesy of a joint effort. Miach had sneaked in a couple of onions and potatoes and a loaf of bread in addition to the vials of healing potions. For her part, Hestia had brought back a large bowl full of leftover fried potato snacks, stuffed with a mixture of bean paste and minced meat. Bell had carefully counted out the money that he had earned from the dungeon that day, and after putting aside a tidy sum for the upkeep and maintenance of their new fangled familia, he had taken the remainder and done a quick run to the market, bringing back some flour and salt.

Bringing these all together, Archer had gotten a merry stew set to boil, properly seasoned and thickened. Sure, the meat was replaced with chunks of fried potato snacks, but combined with the fresh vegetables, the stew still smelled absolutely divine.

Considering that this group consisted of two literal gods, that was saying a lot.

It was with a curious eagerness that the other three had tucked into their meal, and Archer himself couldn't resist the allure of nice hot food for long. The next few minutes were spent in silence, interspersed with content 'ooohs' and 'aaahs', testimonials to the taste of the food.

Setting down his spoon with a thump, Archer leaned back with a sigh. "Ah, that was good. Not quite the dumplings and stew that I am used to, but I enjoyed this variant as well."

"Ish goooooooood." was Hestia's enthusiastic approval, while Bell and Miach nodded in agreement.

"Normally, I use cuts of beef and many more spices, to make the base of the stew more rich and filling, but this does very nicely indeed. Such a pity that you didn't bring a few of those herbs along that you smell of, Miach."

Miach looked confused at that, and tentatively sniffed at his tunic's sleeve, "What are you talking about Archer? I smell nothing of herbs…"

As Archer frowned, Hestia leaned in obnoxiously and gave an exaggerated sniff as well, "Nope! You must have smelled something or someone else Archer."

"I am not mistaken! I….oh." The 'oh' was said with a depressed sort of finality as realization dawned. The kind of realization that the glasses you have been searching for the past hour were atop your head all along. The kind of realization that you have just apologized to a mannequin for bumping into it.

The realization that puts your mental faculties in serious question.

Archer had finally understood the source of the strange scents that he had been smelling since his arrival. These were the scents of Gods. Like the magecraft that he could sense vaguely through it's smell. Back in his world as well, this was an unusual skill. All mages could sense and perceive magecraft, to different degrees and levels, of course. Some could see it as a faint shimmer, like a heat haze, still others could feel a slight vibration...a discordant note in the music of the world.

Archer however, sensed magic by its smell. Once he made that connection, things finally began to fall into place.

The dandy boy that smelled of the outdoors and long journeys was a God, as was the busty woman, who smelled like freshly mown grass and petrichor. Loki too had a distinct scent to her, something that he recalled now and hadn't put into place before. She smelled like the raging flames of an inferno or a blaze, for lack of a better word, and the foreboding scent of a dark forest at dusk.

It made sense that Miach smelled like herbs, considering that he was the God of Medicines, and he told the others as such.

To say that they were intrigued was an understatement. What followed, was a quick experimentation into the way magecraft behaved in this new world. Egged on by Hestia's enthusiastic 'Smell Bell! Smell Bell!', Archer gave in and did as requested. As it happened, Adventurers and other members of a God's familia took on a faint whiff of their parent God, along with a light undercurrent of their own power. It was far less pronounced than what a God's scent was though.

Bell...his scent to Archer's senses was like that of ozone, of a thunderstorm and the rains. But overpowering that scent, was a scent of home. Of warm fires to ease the cold nights. Of belonging. It was difficult to put into words, and it was intoxicating. To Archer, who had become accustomed to calling wherever he fell asleep as his 'home', this familiar sensation was nostalgic and sentimental. Almost unbearably so.

So it was with some trepidation that he focused his senses on Hestia.

He really should have known better.

The first thing he smelled was gunpowder. A dreadful stench that always seemed to follow Kiritsugu, along with the bitter tang of guilt and regret. That was followed with a scent of charring flesh, of death. The noxious odour of the Fuyuki fire, where he had died. Where he had been reborn.

That was to be expected. That was his past, and one that he couldn't change. The fires of Fuyuki were as much a part of him as his body. What was surprising was the other fragrances that he could grasp. The pleasant aroma of cherry blossoms borne on a cold breeze, the inviting odour of hamburgers sizzling on the grill, of grassy meadows at sunset.

As was to be expected, the Goddess of Family...she smelled like home. And it brought the pain of loss to the surface. Absently, Archer cleared his throat, which was all choked up for some reason, and wiped at his eyes, noting that the back of his hand came away wet. Strange.

He hadn't banked on the effect his little breakdown would have on his erstwhile companions, who had all closed ranks around him, looking at him with concern and worry writ clear on their faces. Once again, Archer couldn't help but acknowledge that they were all good people, with not a trace of guile or malice in their bearing or their behavior.

So when Miach asked him what was wrong, perhaps it was a result of this, or because of some esoteric skill that all doctors possess that encourages their patients to open up about themselves...but Archer found himself recounting the tale of the forge that had molded him into a blade.

* * *

 **~~oOOo~~**

 _There was a fire. To say that it was a mere fire would be to call a shark, a fish. It was something out of a nightmare, horrific and deadly...yet it burned all the same. Pillars of flames raised their fiery grasp towards the heavens, feasting on the fuel that human bodies provided, gleefully reaching ever higher with every passing minute, crackling and raging with all their might, disdaining the efforts of those who tried to put it out._

 _It was hell._

 _It was hell._

 _It was hell._

 _Within this hell, a boy walked. He was burned in many places, weak and injured. His little throat barely able to function from all the inhaled smoke. Yet, he walked. What else could he do? Even in this torment, the boy knew that if he fell, he would never rise again. So, he walked._

 _He could see others clinging on to life, fighting to stay alive. Still others accepting their inevitable end and surrendering to the greedy flames. He saw faces of people that he thought he knew, and then saw those faces slough off , charred and melted from the heat. He saw mothers try to save their babies, their children, yet to no avail._

 _This world was a sacrifice to the gods, and the people within it, the fuel. Yet, the boy walked on._

 _First to wither in these hellish flames, was his sense of pain. He ached so much, it became a part of his existence, till he couldn't imagine a time when he didn't hurt. Then, he lost his sense of grief. After all, how could one grieve when there was no respite, no recourse, no one to mourn the dead? They were all one in this blaze._

 _With each step that he took, the boy began to lose more and more of what made him a human._

 _Then, the boy lost his name, and with it, lost his desire to escape these flames._

 _He fell._

 _He never knew how long he lay there, awaiting his end, but then, he was saved._

 _His palm was held in calloused, warm hands, and he saw the face of the man who had saved him. All he could think of was 'That man had such a beautiful smile. I want to smile like that one day.'_

* * *

"...and so, I decided to follow in his footsteps. My father was not a good man. He was a killer, a murderer. He had committed many evils in the course of his life. But never for personal gain or desire. He did it all for his dreams, for his ideals. In my arrogance, I decided that I would be the hero that he never got to be...that I would learn from his mistakes...that I would be better."

He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Needless to say, I didn't succeed."

He sighed and looked up, seeing the horror and shock reflected on their faces. That was to be expected. A small part of him felt guilty on inflicting this on Bell and Hestia, who weren't as worldly as Miach was. But it was only a small part, and he had long since gotten used to ignoring it.

Their horror was expected, yes, but what he didn't expect was to find himself suddenly on the floor while a pair of midgets hugged his sides.

"Oi...you lot...off" He protested his manhandling, but Hestia and Bell were quite undeterred. He looked towards Miach for support, but the man only looked on, giving a slight shrug of denial. The traitor.

It had taken a bit to calm things down. Bell was the most affected of the lot. The boy didn't seem the type to take initiative normally, but something in Archer's story seemed to have resonated with him. Archer put it out of mind. Whatever it was, if it concerned him, Bell would speak about it eventually. If not, it was none of his business.

Eventually, things had settled and they were all once more around the rickety table, talking about this and that. Archer had made clear that he planned to head out into the dungeons on his own, and eventually getting a place of his own. He had declined offers from both, Hestia and Miach, to bunk out at their homes, such as they were, till he found a place of his own.

Not that it stopped the two from offering their help.

"I do insist, Shirou." Miach said kindly, his voice suffused with a warmth that was comforting while being understanding, "Anything you want, any help that I can give, I am glad to. You are welcome to avail yourself of whatever aid The Blue Pharmacy can provide you."

Archer could tell that Miach's offer was genuine, and honestly, that bit he was still having trouble accepting, but it was the truth. Archer was too used to Gods being bogeymen, frightening beings of incredible power who caused havoc wherever they trod, ruining lives with an irresponsible ease. A benevolent, friendly god is something he never expected. Without even bringing up the enigma that was Hestia.

"Seriously Shirou," the tiny goddess in question piped up, "I know I am not allowed to use my godly powers, my Arcanum...but there can be something I can do. I am the goddess of family and home after all." She offered with a smile.

Archer commended himself on gazing into her eyes and her eyes only and nodded back. He was aware that this could be his best chance to leave it all behind; to flee from the horrors of the road, before they take even more of him away. He knew that if he stayed with Hestia, she would not only help him come to terms with all that he had lost, but he himself would grow to enjoy the familiarity of it all. He could easily see himself falling into step, taking up a mentor's role for Bell, or a caretaker's role for their fledgling familia.

He knew that if he walked this path, it would lead him down to something resembling happiness.

As a Counter Guardian, he had walked many desolate paths, made many unimaginable journeys...but this was something he has never faced before. Archer, on some level knew what would happen if he chose to stay. He knew that it lead to safety, to family, to blessed normality...or as normal an existence a Counter Guardian could have. However, as an insidious voice in the back of his mind quietly noted, it didn't lead to answers.

Both Hestia and Miach knew his choice before he said it out aloud. As he began to speak, Miach sent him a heartbroken smile, which he would have returned if he had the strength.

In that moment, a sombre understanding developed between the two.

An understanding that after everything they've seen, everything that had happened, the two still chose to brave the vagaries of the road. It was a decision that revealed something about them, exposing a driving force behind their actions that negated the common sense and rationality of any sane person.

It was a decision only two broken people would make.

It was a choice that a son who fell into the mercy of his murderous father for the sake of a loved one would make.

It was a choice that a man who had sacrificed his very soul for the sake of humanity would make.

"No." Archer said with a finality, smoothly speaking in half-truths, "Thank you for the offer...but my journey brought me to this city. If I am here...I am here for a reason. I will get to the bottom of that reason, if it's the last thing I would do"

* * *

 **~~oOOo~~**

Deep within the Pantheon, in the Room of Prayers, a pair of wizened old eyes opened slowly, and gazed into the distance, feeling the weight of the years. His lips curled into a dry smile, as if a crack in the granite.

"Nothing could really keep you down for long, could it?" He said wistfully. "Your rise will herald a new war and trying times...times that I am not confident that this world is ready for."

"I can only pray that the adventurers will rise to the occasion, because if they do not...we are all doomed."

"Politeness dictates that I should bid you welcome, but nothing could be farther from the truth, my son."

Ouranous spoke aloud, seemingly to no one. Yet, the earth trembled and shook under his feet, as if in response.

* * *

 **A/N : Tada, I am here! Two months late. That will teach me to give a set date for an update. As it happened, life got busy, and I had to travel to Italy for a conference and a project. Didn't have the time to re-write and proofread and update. I extend my apology for missing the date.**

 **That said, I am absolutely blown away by the response that this has received. Nearly a thousand follows? over a hundred reviews? You guys are the best.**

* * *

 ****FIRSTLY AND MOST IMPORTANTLY** : There's a consistent theme in the reviews to the current chapter about Archer acting OOC and being too open too soon. And you are correct. Without revealing spoilers about the plot, I can only assure you that this is something that is happening because of a reason, and not because I dropped the ball on characterization.**

* * *

 **I have messaged most of the guys in response to their reviews, but I would like to address a salient point that was rather...aggressively...brought up. Namely, this fic being a Shirouwank.**

 **I will say this upfront. I dislike writing weak characters. I dislike writing coming-of-age stories. I dislike zero-to-hero narratives. Yes, Archer is going to be strong, and most of the monsters and things won't be a challenge to him. That said, this is not a "fix-it" fic. Archer has his own troubles, his own problems to deal with. He will join the cast in their canon adventures sometimes, or be tangential, but he's not going to step into every trouble and resolve it.**

 **If this is not your cup of tea, I can understand, and would direct you to read some other story that suits your tastes. What more can I say?**

 **Oh, and one guy complained about Archer's cooking being good, and demanded where the fiction that "Shirou is a good cook" sprang from. To that I say, well, considering the fact that Today's Menu with Emiya Family is airing monthly, where it shows Shirou's culinary skills...not to mention Heaven's Feel VN as well as Hollow Ataraxia VN to a lesser extent, both demonstrate Shirou's excellent grasp of cooking.**

 **This was such an odd thing to complain about.**

 **I also got some PMs asking if I have a Pae tree ohn. Sadly, I don't. Might think about getting one if there are enough requests for it, but otherwise no.**

 **Anyway, I am off for now. Next chapter will have Freya shenanigans, as well as Ottarl making an appearance. So, stay tuned!**

 **Let me know what you think guys :)**


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